


Squeeze Me, Sir

by BloodyAbattoir



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gentle Kissing, Humor, Muscles, POV Second Person, Possibly Out of Character, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25474969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyAbattoir/pseuds/BloodyAbattoir
Summary: Just a little bit of fluff between Geralt and an unnamed reader. Mainly because Henry Cavill has muscles for days.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 141





	Squeeze Me, Sir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frobster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frobster/gifts), [Nuggsmum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuggsmum/gifts).



> For a certain froggy boi who is just a smol twink with a thing for big muscly men.

One musclebound arm is wrapped around your waist, pinning you against the sleeping Witcher beneath you. You sigh in contentment, burying your face into the crook of his neck just a bit more as you melt into him even further. The scent of his skin is calming, smelling of soap and something else as it fills your lungs, helping you drift off into a place that's not quite awake, not quite asleep. 

You hum quietly, wriggling just the slightest bit as you seek out a position just a hair more comfortable. It's scarcely more than a twitch, and yet, it's enough to spur Geralt to action. Even in his sleep, he's unwilling to let go of you. His arm tightens around you, until you almost can't breathe. Almost. Indeed, it's almost as if you're being held in place by a compression sleeve. 

Briefly, a flicker of worry crosses your mind as you remember his inhuman strength, the way that he is certainly capable of snapping your ribs like toothpicks. It dissipates nearly as quickly as it came on - after all, he's never hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. Fear gone, you press a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw, as light as a feather, pulling a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr from him, one that you feel reverberate through his chest as much as you hear it. 

You smile to yourself at the thought of not only a domestic Witcher, but a purring one as well. For a brief moment, you wonder if all Witchers were like this. Then, the thought hits you, and despite your best attempt, a laugh tumbles from your lips at the thought of Witchers doing the same murderchirp as your pet cat. It's quickly followed by several more. 

Beneath you, Geralt lets out a grumble as he returns to the world of the conscious, glaring at you for daring to wake him. "What?" 

By this point, you're laughing so hard that if you were standing, you'd be doubled over. Every time you think you've gotten a handle on it, you burst out into laughter once more, until finally your eyes are watering and you're hiccuping from the absolute indignity of it all. 

The entire time you're busy trying not to die of laughter, Geralt is glaring at you in confusion. He senses no curse or magical interference, and there's no way you could've gotten drunk or high when he had you trapped as his own personal teddy bear for the past hour. What on earth was wrong with his human? 

When you are finally able to compose yourself, you wipe the tears of mirth from your face, and dare to ask him, "D-Do Witchers, haha, you know, purr?" 

After the end of this sentiment, you once more dissolve into laughter as he watches on. He merely grunts at you, wrapping his other arm around you and pulling you tightly against his chest.

"Shush." He mutters, kissing you on the top of the head. 


End file.
